


I'm what you're searching for

by koumei



Category: Barakamon, ばらかもん | Barakamon
Genre: 'kinky ink sex', Blowjobs, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koumei/pseuds/koumei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handa Seishuu could feel his brain overheating and threatening to take away whatever remaining control he had on his life.</p><p>Not that he, nor the boy currently standing stark naked in front of him really minded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm what you're searching for

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was culture shock setting in a little too late, being in the country side for the first time in his young life. Or maybe it was his desire to be something bigger, better than he was that was driving him insane. Handa Seishuu could feel his brain overheating and threatening to take away whatever remaining control he had on his life.

Or maybe it was really, just the heat. The sweltering heat of a summer’s day in the Gotō Islands.

Either way he’d lost it.

Not that he, nor the boy currently standing stark naked in front of him really minded.

He knew better than to be messing with an eighteen year old but the boy had so eagerly offered to help him practise his calligraphy and Gods forbid he turn down the offer. It’s just that he hadn't exactly planned for things to turn out this way.

Hiroshi Kido stood, back against the large screen doors of Handa’s living area, his legs spread open and his arms bound together and held high above his head with a spare obi Handa had lying around.

It was erotic, exciting, new and possibly the thing Handa needed to extract that writing style he was searching for from within his soul.

“Sensei…” the younger boy’s voice trembled a little as he shifted his weight on his right leg and Handa watched as the lean muscles of his abdomen tensed and then relax.

“Stay still Hiroshi, I’m thinking.” Handa leaned down to pick up his calligraphy brush and dragged the tip gracefully across the ink stick.

Charcoal ink, black as the depths of the Pacific ocean sunk into the fine threads of the brush and Handa withdrew, placing himself face to face with Hiroshi and pondered.

He didn’t know where to begin. Hiroshi’s skin was beautifully tanned from constant sun exposure, leaving a warm swarthy color to his young body. It was a strangely pleasant contrast to the boy’s rushed dye-job; somehow bringing out the warm tones of his skin even more. It made Handa nervous to paint on a color other than the usual light tones of his mulberry paper.

Handa looked up and gazed into the younger man’s eyes. He tried to understand, as silly as it sounded, what the boy could have been thinking, to offer his body in such a way to an older man. Maybe the heat had gotten to his head too and they were both slowly going insane. 

Just then Hiroshi pushed his hips off the wood of the screen door and held them towards Handa, a low whine easing it’s way out of his throat as the boy bit his lip and looked back up at him. “Sensei, please do hurry.”

Handa swallowed and tried to recompose himself. The atmosphere was becoming dangerous.

Slowly, he raised his brush and laid his first stroke, starting from just above Hiroshi’s left nipple and trailing down before lifting the brush up once more to continue the word. He watched his stokes, orderly and practised but nothing special. Just as the Director had told him. 

‘Your calligraphy is just plain dull.’

Angry with himself he continued, bitterly shaping out the six stroke radical needed to form his last kanji character. He went slow, agonisingly slow, only pausing once to watch Hiroshi’s face. But the moment he did he instantly regretted it. 

The boy had his eyes shut tightly, leaving frown lines between his dark eyebrows. His cheeks were a bright red, and Handa could of sworn he could feel their heat radiating onto his own face. Hiroshi had his mouth open and his lips were wet and shining, reflecting the light from the over head lightbulb. He’d been licking at his lips. Hiroshi was enjoying this.

Realisation flared up in Handa’s chest. Shit, he was enjoying this too.

He pulled back his brush and as he did the younger boy’s eyes snapped open and looked almost panicked. “Please, don’t stop there,” the younger boy hurriedly pleaded.

That did it. Overpowered by the heat, his pent up frustration, his fatigue; by Hiroshi being here, beautiful and exposed like this, responding to the movements of his brush made Handa lose all self restraint he had and let go. Because why the fuck not.

He sank to his knees and slapped the brush against the soft skin of Hiroshi’s thigh and heard a groan resonate from above. He smirked and slid the brush down the length of the boy’s leg and all the way back up. He reached behind him for the ink stick and reapplied the dark charcoal color.  
Handa let himself loose, first covering Hiroshi’s, legs, hips, stomach and then going higher; his chest, shoulders and arms now covered with his messy strokes. He wrote whatever came to his mind, nouns, verbs, adjectives, sometimes even just meaningless lines and curves.  
He watched, fascinated at the way the black ink stood out from the olive-colored background. Every now and then a sigh or yelp would escape from Hiroshi’s lips and it made Handa even more eager to continue, foolishly hoping the boy would make the sound again.

His brain was lost in a muffled trance of ecstasy and he could hardly think straight. He didn’t even know if half of the kanji he’d applied to Hiroshi’s skin even made sense, let alone spelt correctly. And yet he couldn't bring himself to care. 

A long, vertical third stroke on the radical for ‘river’ brought his brush to something he’d been too wrapped up in his own pleasure to notice. Hiroshi was as hard as a rock and his tip was wet and leaking. 

Handa flushed and looked up at the boy, unsure what to do. His mind blanched completely.

“Hiroshi,” the younger boy’s eyes opened once again and fluttered down to the man kneeling between his legs. “This was your idea— Thi— …I’ll have you know I am in no place to take responsibility for what happens from here on out,” how Handa had managed to say that with such a steady tone was beyond him.

“I don’t —ah, I don’t understand what you mean, Sensei.” the younger boy replied and had the audacity to look innocent.

Handa sighed. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face and be wiped at it, only then realising how worked up he’d gotten. This boy was going to end him. 

“Well, in this situation… Having you in this state might cause a few problems,” he tried hinting.

Brown eyes flickered to his face and then to his own erect cock and the boy bit his lip.

“You should take care of it then, Sensei. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your hard work.”

That kind of irritated Handa. But excited him even more than it did upset him. Oh, so he was going to play it like that then, huh.

“You’re going to kill me, you know that right?” he asked and placed his hand around the base of Hiroshi’s cock, holding it.

Hiroshi smiled sheepishly. “I know.”

And with that, Handa Seishuu, angled his face down and took Hiroshi into his mouth. The gesture instantly made both men groan. Yes, this is what they were both here for.

Handa pulled back, but not completely off, and sank back down, seeing how far he could push the younger boy down his throat. Everything felt hot; the air, his flesh, the erect member rubbing against his tongue. He really was going insane to be enjoying this as much as he was. 

Hiroshi moaned and bucked into his mouth, and he had to place his free hand onto the boy’s hips to hold him down and to stop from gaging, before eventually giving in and letting go, allowing Hiroshi to pound mindlessly into his mouth, arms straining against the obi that held them bound.

He looked up and just watched. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen; the beautiful young boy, body covered in his frantic, mindless calligraphy, sweating and chanting his name as he fucked his mouth.

Hiroshi put his free hand onto his lap and rubbed at his hard cock over his cotton jinbei. He wasn’t going to last long.  
They both kept a rhythm that way, Handa gazing up at Hiroshi and accepting him further and further down his throat as Handa pulled and pumped at his own burning flesh.

The black ink started to drip from mixing with the heat and Hiroshi’s sweat and began to flow off of the boy’s skin and onto the newspaper Handa had been smart enough to think of laying down before letting the young man strip in front of him.

Handa watched Hiroshi’s face contort with pleasure, listened to him moan like he was coming undone. His mouth felt raw from being over used and he could feel saliva merged with precome dribble from his mouth. There were tears in his eyes from repeatedly restraining his gag reflex and he felt like he was out of his mind. 

“Sensei. Sensei,” the boy chanted as if saying a prayer. “So hot Sensei, your mouth is beautiful.”

Handa closed his eyes and willed himself not to come.

“You’re so talented Sensei. Your handwriting is all over me sensei, you’re taking my cock so good, Sensei. So talented. I belong to you, now.”

Grip tightening, Handa stroked at his cock even harder and pulled Hiroshi deeper into his mouth, sucking at his skin and rolling his tongue in a fervent attempt to taste all and as much as he possibly could of the boy.

“Ahh— So hot, so tight. I’m going to come, Sensei. Please… Please let me come in your pretty mouth, Sensei.”

Handa furiously nodded and gripped onto his beautiful tanned hips, tainted with charcoal ink. Hiroshi bucked one final time and came, thick hot ribbons of semen shooting down Hiroshi’s throat and on his tongue.

Heat took over his body and he came alongside the younger boy, all over his hands and onto the newspaper covered floor. 

Handa pulled back, letting the younger boy slip out of his mouth and got up on shaky legs to untie the boy’s arms. Hiroshi laughed softly and slumped to the ground, completely spent.

Handa contemplated the boy as he sat, sagging against the screen door and eyes closed.

He felt his heart speed up and he had to take a second to make sure he wasn’t seeing things as an aftermath from the kinky ink sex he’d just had. But no, there it was. The calligraphy he’d been searching for. All over Hiroshi’s sweaty body.

In his fervour, he hadn’t been paying attention to what or how he was writing, just letting the feel of things take control but now on closer inspection he was only proud of himself. His heart tightened and he couldn't help the tears of relief that escaped from his eyes. He laughed, borderline manic, but a laugh nonetheless. Maybe Hiroshi wasn’t so average after all. 

Handa let his laughed die down before crawling over to Hiroshi and lifting his ink stained hand to stroke gingerly at his face. The boy, now asleep, had a faint trace of a smile on his lips and Handa laughed again. Who would have thought this dumb idea would actually bring out the one thing he was searching for. Maybe he’d have to bring Hiroshi back to Tokyo with him when the time came.  
The thought made him smile and he traced the boy’s sleeping form, lifting his wrists, circled with chaffed red lines to his mouth and kissed them.

It was only after a few minutes when the euphoria died down and dread settled itself back into Handa’s bones. He can’t let Hiroshi sleep here. It was only late noon but the chances of Naru or the girls walking in on them were still too high.

Panicked, he shook the boy awake but to no avail. He sighed and tried pulling the young man up but he had literally become dead weight. 

“Hiroshi. Oi, Hiroshi. Wake up or I’ll kick you out. I don’t care if you’re still naked.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hiroshi’s brown eyes snapped open not a second later and Handa restrained a smirk.

“Get dressed, before Naru walks in and asks to paint on you too.”

And with that, Handa watched a worried eighteen year old boy shower, dress and run out of the door faster than humanly possible for a boy who’d just had the most intense sex of his life. But not without a last lingering kiss to his pouting lips and a promise for round two. Just not during daylight hours.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A MESS BUT I JUST STARTED WATCHING THIS ANIME AND IT'S SO FUNNY AND CUTE AND I JUST NEEDED TO WRITE A SMUTFIC FOR THEM AHH .. ..


End file.
